


We Push Away the Unimaginable

by KeeperofSeeds



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anxiety Disorder, Breastfeeding, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Guilt, Healing, Hurt/Comfort, Male-Female Friendship, Newborn Children, On the Run, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Survivor Guilt, Work In Progress
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-03
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-05-30 22:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6445099
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KeeperofSeeds/pseuds/KeeperofSeeds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>RotS AU: Padme survives. Weak from her injuries on Mustafar and healing after giving birth, she and the twins are taken into hiding by Obi Wan. Now they are on the run from the Empire and dealing with each other's trauma, as they try to figure out what to do after your world falls apart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> based off a swkinkmeme prompt:
> 
> [ Something where Obi-Wan is the one who delivers the twins and then takes Padme into hiding. They still have to give away the twins. But maybe she gets to keep them a bit longer. Anyway then Obi-Wan helps with Padme's healing. Grief at losing everyone, medical problems from the birth? And easing her milk.](https://starwarskinkmeme.dreamwidth.org/586.html?thread=554058#cmt554058)

Evening finds them sitting in the living room of the small rented apartment together. It's dangerous to stay in any place for too long but they needed to switch ships and pick up more supplies and Padme trusts Obi Wan to sense any danger. She is grateful for the chance to sleep in an actual bed instead of a cot. The ache in her back that's lingered unwinds by small degrees as the evening progresses and she sits propped with pillows on the worn couch watching Obi Wan move around the apartment.

 He is holding Leia, whose been fussy, humming and rocking her gently as he waits for his tea to steep in an attempt to get her to go to sleep. Padme can't help but smile at the image. It's certainly not one she ever expected. For all Obi Wan was her friend, she had never been sure how he'd react to news of her pregnancy. It was easy to now see how easily her children had found their way into his heart. Without them to focus on she wasn't sure how he'd be handling things. Between helping her heal and caring for the twins and keeping them ahead of any Imperial troops he barely seems to stop moving. It certainly is one way of coping with everything that had happened.

She feels an ache start up between her legs and knows it's almost time for another dose of medication. Between the pain from the stretched and torn flesh between her legs to the constant feeling of weakness due to blood loss to the lingering rasp in her voice from being choked, Padme knew how close to death she'd come. How dangerous the situation still was. On the run like this, weak as she was, with the newly formed Empire on the lookout for her and for Obi Wan, and for her children…it had been a horrible reality to awaken to. She'd been so close to giving up. So tired of fighting and struggling and not gaining any ground. Now, little moments like this, watching Obi Wan soothe her daughter and seeing the concerned lines on his forehead being smoothed in return…she was willing to endure the ache a little longer, just for one more memory to hold close. She knew, with a bone deep weariness that she'd need moments like this to hold on to in the coming times.

* * *

When he finally puts Leia to bed and washed up the cup he'd used for the tea he comes for her. The outstretched hand a silent question as well as an offer of help. The twinge of pain that flashes across her face as she shifts to stand is answer enough. He places her arm around his waist to help steady her as they slowly make their way to the bedroom.

"I should have asked earlier." she admits.

"Well, stubbornness is not a trait you can unlearn in just a few weeks my Lady," he jokes, falling back on the old formality, but she can tell his heart isn't in it. She lets it pass anyway and pinches his side as he helps lower her into the bed.

"Cheeky" she chides, and is rewarded with a soft huff of laughter.

 While he heads to the small fresher to get her next dose of pain medication she begins to get ready for bed. A process much changed from her years as queen, and even her years in the Senate. Gone were her heavy gowns and  elaborate hair styles. She'd traded them all for simple dresses in plain, dark colors, and her hair stayed in a set of simple braids. Gone was her collection of hair brushes and jewelry. Instead makeup and brushes she had a bag of medical supplies and salves and a handful of medicines. It had been easier than expected to transform her life so far. Later, she supposed, when she was less exhausted and less injured, other emotions would surface, but for now she took comfort where she could and formed new routines.

Settling into the single bed she finger combed her hair and waited for Obi Wan.

 It doesn't take long before he returns with the familiar injector.  He brushes her newly redone braids over her shoulder and places a hand on her neck, tilting it slightly for easier access.

"Just relax, Padme," he murmurs, breath tickling her ear, "it shouldn't be long now until it kicks in."

She knows what to expect, he's been doing this for, caring for her, for over two weeks now, but she appreciates the reassurance all the same.   
A cool feeling that flows from the injection sight and she sighs as he runs gentle fingers over her neck soothing the leftover sting.

"I'll have a new ship for us by tomorrow evening." he says, standing. "So there's no reason to rush in the morning. And we could use the extra rest."

Padme gives him a Look.

"Well, as long as the children allow it." he amends. The twins are wonderful, really, but for all her reading Padme wasn't really prepared for the realities of a newborn, and especially not two of them. Early mornings and diaper changes and interrupted night feedings would be more than enough for any new mother, but doing things while on the run added an extra level of difficulty. But still, it was nice to know they could linger.

He put the medicine back into its small pack and stood to leave.

"Good night Padme. Sleep well."

"Obi Wan, wait." she calls out before he can reach the door.  

He'd been taking the couch, the perfect gentleman, but something in her tonight needs more. The comfort of touch, and the warmth of another person's body.

"Stay." she entreats, holding her hand out.  He hesitates.

"Please."

"Until you fall asleep." he relents, and it's a start.

He eases onto the bed beside her, a careful distance between his legs and her own beneath the covers, but while she is healing she is not quite so fragile as all that. Padme reaches out and pulls at his sleeve until he slides close enough for her to rest her head on his shoulder.

The warmth of him mixes with the slow drag of medication through her veins and she begins to relax. She's grown used to fighting through the pain, to resisting medication, worrying about wasting their small supply. Obi Wan insists that he can find more but she can't quite see him, the upstanding Jedi, with many underworld contacts. But still, he does his best to care for her and to fight her own stubborn nature.

The solid weight of him next to her mixes with the dim flickering of lights through the single smudged window in the room and she thinks maybe this is the time to bring up topics they've carefully been tip toeing around. Perhaps it is cowardly to do so with the pain medicine flowing through her, a convent excuse should he react unfavorably, but she doesn't want the questions to sit inside her and fester and bleed for any long than necessary. Surely that day on Mustafars weighs just as heavily on Obi Wan. Surely he will welcome a listening ear. Someone else who knows the pain of loss and betrayal.

Padme isn't sure if she is trying to convince herself of this, or merely hoping it is so. Wants and needs blur so easily these past few weeks. 

She hasn't asked about Anakin since giving birth. Obi Wan hasn't offered any information. Too focused on running and caring for Luke and Leia and sorting through her own feelings ( _paingriefsorrowdisbelief_ ), she didn't push for answers. As the weeks go by though, her need for answers, for closure, grows.

She wants Obi Wan to stop the horrible thoughts that creep up on her during long nights and longer transports. The thought of Anakin gone _dead_ destroyed. The thought of the boy she fell in love with twisted beyond recognition and beyond hope of redemption. She _needed_ Obi Wan to correct her.

Or to confirm her worst fears.

 


	2. Chapter 2

She presses to his side, ear pressed close, just feeling the rise and fall of his chest. The steady, calming beat of his heart.

He lets her. Which is a good, she thinks. Contact will help. Having someone else close, feeling the gentle up down of breathing, that confirmation of life. She needs that when thinking about all the death and destruction of that day. When thinking about her husband's hand, reaching out and choking the life from her body.

"Obi Wan…" she asks, not raising her head.

He hums in answer, clearly relaxing. The tension in his shoulders slowly easing. If the need for answers wasn't eating away at her she might feel bad for disturbing what little down town he allows himself. But she must know, so she continues.

"Will you tell me about that Day." She doesn't need to specify further. They both know of no other day in their shared history that had such an effect on not only them, but the galaxy at large.

"Tell me what happened to Anakin. What happened after he- after I-… after."

She feels him draw in a large breath and slowly, so slowly release it. Then he begins. In the dark, with a voice that hitches occasionally, he tells of their final duel across the fires and pits of Mustafar. She's sure he is glossing over certain parts, but he tells her enough, and she will not push him farther. Not now. Not when the memories are still so fresh. Some things are meant to be kept clutched close to your chest. To bury them deep down in the dark and only take them out in the early morning light, when even the most painful memory can take on a bittersweet sheen.

He tells of Anakin's beliefs, twisted and deformed. Influenced by the Chancellor.

"He was under our noses the entire time. I never…" he pauses. "He'd always shown a particular interest in Anakin. From the moment I took him as a Padawan."

Her fingers reach out for his over the covers, squeezing, offering comfort. The Chancellor had fooled them all. Her own Senator, her adviser all those years on Naboo!

Obi Wan takes another shuddering breath, and squeezes back.

The longer he talks, the more her heart sinks. Against all odds, she had hoped that maybe…maybe Anakin had survived. As Obi Wan tells of Anakin's anger, his rage against not only him but the entire Jedi Order she remembers dark thoughts, in those long transports, crowded together with strangers fleeing together, she wonder if maybe death was the kinder option. As he draw closer to the end of their fight she doesn't know what outcome she wants. Pain is all that's left no matter what. Her emotions feel more distant, slower to materialize through the pain medication, but more likely to linger. Her sorrow feels drawn up from a great well, from the depths of her very being. Just when she's sure she can feel no deeper the pain wells up, swallowing her down. Only know it feels like Obi Wan is being swept out with her.

"I had the higher ground." he admits, tears finally falling. "I cut him down, left him there. I watched him burning and I left him! Even after everything I couldn't-"

She pulls back and looks into his bruised face, the dark marks beginning to yellow and fade faster than her own, knowing her husband caused those marks and whispers, "I know. I know you love him too. It's okay. It's okay for us to mourn."

That's all he seemed to need; this permission, because he collapses in slow motion against her, still so careful in his grief. His head now pressed against her chest while quiet sobs rattle through him. It sounds painful. She allows her own grief to spill over as she brushes clumsy fingers through his shaggy hair, like she does for the twins, soothing, even as she draws him even closer on the bed, wrapping her arms around. He hides his face against her, the damp seeping in her night robe.

"I failed him. I should have seen-"

"We did everything we could." she whispers into his hair. Whispers it until she is tempted to believe it. She'll keep repeating it until it overrides memories of the doubts and secrets and times they'd talked of confiding in Obi Wan.

Eventually he cries himself out and makes to move but she doesn't let him. The meds have fully kicked in by now and she feels sleep start to tug on her conscious. Combined with the heavy weight of grief, of knowing Anakin's gone it's easy so easy to give in.

"Stay," she whispers again and it's a testament to much he must have been holding back because he this time he doesn't bother protesting. She pushes a corner of the blanket in his direction and leaves her arm curled around his shoulders. As she slips into sleep Padme feels a light brush of lips on the back of her other hand. 


End file.
